Kiss Me Kidnapped
by ACertainJustice
Summary: This is my version of what happens after the FBI agent tells Lindsey Boxer about the Kiss Me Not Killer being after her. Pairings is to be voted on, other then that enjoy my madness!
1. KissMeSoon

This is my version of what happens after the FBI agent tells Lindsey Boxer about the Kiss Me Not Killer being after her. Pairings is to be voted on, other then that enjoy my madness!

**A/N I haven't decided to make this a femslash or not. Any opinions? I considered having her call Cindy but decided to leave the door open for a bit. I know it might be a little out of character for Inspector Boxer so I will only continue it if you guys like it. I just want to mention two things... not to pat myself on the back, but as any respective writer will know, the present tense is HARD. So I am apologizing ahead of time for any random tense changes. I have stuck a few in there on purpose, but for the most part it's an accident. Feel free to correct me at any time. The other thing that i'm finding difficult is writing in the I form because it limits how much detail I can go into (since we don't know other people's views and opinions.) On One side this is good because then you can use your imagination, and on the other side this is bad because it may leave some gaps. Ah well... I wanted to try something a little different then usual, so please try to break it me gently when you wish to tell me that I am failing miserably!!**

**Disclaimer: Angie has decided that boys are stupid and that girls are the way to go... good thing too, considering the fact that no lesbian can resist her. haha no, she still belongs to her pimp James Patterson, along with any other characters taken from the Women's Murder Club show. The rest are mine, although they tend to wander off occasionally (dammit bob, how many times have I told you to stay in the story and out of my underwear drawer...no you may not watch!!) **

"We think you are next"

The words press into me like a heavy iron blanket. A smooth round ball of lead appears and lands in my stomach with a thud so loud I swear that even the FBI agent can hear it. Or maybe that's my heart thudding?

thud, thud, thud

yes, definitely my heart. I search the FBI agent's face for more details while desperately trying on control my own. I'm too tired for this; I'm too tired of everything. He offers no more information; merely a glance mixed with his condolences and what I swear is a smirk of "you're screwed." You bet your ass I'm screwed. I've been searching for this bastard for 5 years and now he decides to show his face? Or will he be showing his face to my dead one? No… I can't think like this.

"Nothing else you can tell me?" oh god, please tell me something!

"Sorry Inspector, we will be assigning an agent to trail you, but other then that there isn't much we can do." Bastard. 10 bucks says he is withholding information. I should kick his ass, but that would involve moving, and currently moving is not an option- in less I am moving downwards. Which is funny because that's exactly what I'm doing. I'm crumpling to the ground like a rag doll, too exhausted to hold myself up. The FBI agent stands there, obviously uncomfortable

"uhh anyone I can call to come over?"

I wave him away wishing desperately to be alone. I can hear Martha on the other side of the door whining for me to let her out. My poor dog, I'm not following the pattern she had been so accustom too. I'm suppose to jingle my keys, insert them in the lock then brace myself for a fury of dirty paws and a wagging tail- not sit outside my door at nearly 1am in the morning. But that's exactly what I'm doing. Sitting. And not just sitting, I'm crying too… Oh god I'm crying in front of an FBI agent who is here to tell me that the Kiss Me Not is out to get me. .. oh god.

I don't understand why the FBI agent hasn't taken the hint and made himself scarce, but I might as well take advantage of him, since I'm currently incapable of handling anything. I silently, with shaky hands, give the keys to him and motion to the door. He takes a hint and inserts the key in the lock. Unfortunately the poor FBI agent has not had the years I have when it comes to bracing oneself against Martha. Martha bursts through the door like a race horse out of a gate, near knocking down the agent. She runs strait past me and into the yard before realizing that something is missing. Me, I am missing, and if the Kiss Me Not has his way I could be missing for a long time.

In any event, Martha immediately high tails it back to where I'm sitting and decides to sit with me. I'm grateful for her comfort, but it is little condolences to the thought that I am now being stalked by a serial killer.

"So I guess I will leave you now… good luck Inspector Boxer" the FBI agent tips his head and walks diligently back to his car. He doesn't look back and I don't look for him too.

I am on my own now, and if I stay out on my porch crying like an idiot I might as well write KILL ME on my forehead. So I stand up with Martha by my side and walk into the dark lonely house. I always leave a back light on for Martha, so when I walk into the house my first thought is that the back light must have burnt out, but I guess a smarter first thought would have been TRAP….


	2. KissMeCuffed

This is my version of what happens after the FBI agent tells Lindsey Boxer about the Kiss Me Not Killer being after her. Pairings is to be voted on, other then that enjoy my madness!

**A/N: Truth be told I'm a lazy bastard (can I say that?) who hates to update, because after the first moment of brilliance my mind ends in nothingness. Which means I should really take up oneshots, but I can't stand them! But after getting reviews (for probably the first time EVER) that stupid guilt started to kick in so i yelled at my muse. My muse finally got tired of the pressure and cranked out this: enjoy!**

**p.s.: Just to let you know I still haven't decided on a pairing even though there are mentions of Tom. I think i might do a little of both...**

The first thing one would ask when getting kidnapped is who? Thankfully for me this is not an issue. Who, is the infamous Kiss Me Not Killer that had been haunting my dreams for years. Actually when you think about it I've probably been haunting the Kiss Me Not for as long as he has been haunting me, but we can get to that later.

Maybe not so much later, as I'm currently trapped in the trunk of a moving vehicle with very little room to move. For once in my life I wish I wasn't so damm tall because wiggling out of my bonds does not seem like a do-able option, especially considering that my bonds are my own cuffs. This could be suprisingly kinky if it didin't involve some crazed phycopath that wanted to sew my lips shut. So instead I'm stuck her contemplating about the stupidest thing ever: Tom. I'm not having any life or death flashes, no goodbye thoughts to my friends, just thoughts of Tom, and marriage and Baby and Heather. Yes, why am I contemplating Tom when i'm sure Heather is already doing that? Oh thats right, because this is why we got divorced. You know I should probably yell at the Kiss Me Not for that when I see him next. Okay okay...no time for joking I get that. It's just the only thing that is keeping me sane.

Instead of Tom I should also be contemplating how I got here, which is the second thing someone would ask when kidnapped. But to be honest I have no clue. When I walked into the doorway I just remember the smell of chemicals and Martha barking like mad. So I'm going to have to fill in the rest myself; some how he broke in, sabotaged me, drugged me, tied me up with my own cuffs and I'm gonna guess stole my own gun, then stuffed me in a drunk. Yup that sounds about right.

This is the time when I start to panic, it's a brief panic but panic sure enough. I'm trying to calm myself by thinking like a detective, but at the moment the only thing I can detect is….airplanes? What the hell? why do I hear airplanes? A thousand thoughts are running through my head right now. If he flies me out of the country he might be easier to track, but it will take longer to rescue me. What if they don't rescue me? What if he takes me to some far away island and keeps me there for ever! Okay, no, don't panic. I'm just going to have to keep listening, do I hear a radio.. I'm not really going to have time to process this thought though because the car has stopped. I hear the crunch of gravel as he walks around the back of the car and taps lightly in the trunk- I swear just to torment me. I am screaming profanities but I doubt he can hear them and I don't want to think about what he might do if he does. It's surprising that he left my mouth unbound, but I guess there is plenty of time for restraints later. No… I can't think like that!!

Suddenly I get a spray of sunlight and my eyes ache. I wish I could rub them but as we've established I'm cuffed, so instead I squirm around like a fish outta water. I look up to confront the Kiss Me Not face to face for the first time, and am met with a barrel of a gun. Oh joy, here I was hoping to have a civilized conversation with him. But I guess he has the same thought as I do because the first thing he says is "lets talk."

yeah, let's talk about how you kidnapped me you jack ass.


	3. KissMeCry

**A/N: We find out who KMN is! hurray for me. Okay so I think I've decided what to do. I need to please everyone so I'm going to make Linds a detective without borders. I might need to put in a scene of what's going on back home while everyone is looking for her. Mostly because I want some pre-conflict with Jill/Cindy/Tom before they actually find Lindsey. Which they will by the way, but it's undecided if she will be alive. mwahhaha…..**

**Warning: sexual assault is implied, I'm not going to go into it in this story, but if you are a smart cookie (which I'm sure you are) then you can figure out what is going on.**

I am Silent, he is silent- so much for talking. My ears hurt from the pressure change and it's not like I'm going to accept gum from him. You never hear about the bodily functions in kidnappings, but I REALLY have to go and I'm having trouble paying attention to the vaguely familiar man sitting across from me. My detective skills can't be that bad because I did find myself at an airport. My captor waved to the pilot of his private jet while his entourage dragged me behind. I fought like hell, but when faced with three 250pound men I am outnumbered…Give me credit, I'm not super woman. I'm starting to feel less and less like super woman every minute. I'm trying not to think about how helpless I really am, but now that I've been tied to a comfy chair in a private jet with a psychopath who obviously has enough money to buy what he wants… well I don't know how much I can do.

To avoid the pressing in my bladder I study my captor. He looks very familiar and is starring out the window as we take off, completely oblivious to my struggling or analysis of him. He has a bit of scruff on his face but is trimmed. He is wearing black dress shoes with a matching black suit. Not exactly the proper outfit to torture woman in, but then again I'm not exactly the type to be tortured. The only color on him is a blue tie, which stands out against his, yes, black dress shirt. Which is great but what I really want to see is his eyes, which are covered by- you guessed it- black sunglasses. Okay watching him is obviously not going to make me have to go any less. I have to think of something to say to him short of begging…

"I need to go to the washroom, please!" A shit, well I tried. The bastard raised an eyebrow at me but said nothing. He waved to one of the men in the front and he "escorts" me to the washroom. This means that he simply unhooks the chain that ties me to the chair, brutally shoves me into a little stall that happened to be right behind my seat, and stands there. Door wide open. Even the KissMeNot is watching now.

"Can I get some privacy here?" I bite my tongue after that, because my voice is giving away how awkward I'm really feeling (can someone say squeaky texan drawl? damm my heritage…) I also consider taking out the guy who is standing in the door way, now that I'm free to do so. But I have no weapon and he clearly does (either that or an oddly placed errection?) So instead I do what I've wanted to do since I got on this god damm plane.

I go.

I keep my eyes down; I don't want them to see how much this is embarrassing me. I know that I shouldn't give him the satisfaction, that I should look at the Kiss Me Not in the eye and put him in his place. Unfortunately I can't bring myself to do it. When I'm finished I glance up the Kiss Me Not who is starring at me, sunglasses off now, with a look of something so primal I can't put a name to it.

Oh shit

I barely have time to shout his name before he is on me. The man standing guard grabs my arms as I struggle to pull my pants back up. I stare at the Kiss Me Not Killer, also known as FBI agent Ashe, in the eye. But his eyes are not like I saw them before, this time they are glazed over with something I can only register is need.

After a half an hour struggle he satisfies that need; hard, fast, and painfully. When he is done I am released, and the door to the bathroom closes, I can hear the click of the lock. I'm plunged into darkness and I can't see my hand, better yet my clothes. I feel around for my dropped pants and grimace when the fist sized bruise on my stomach comes into contact with the tiny sink (remember I'm still in those stupid little air plane bathrooms.)

I guess this would be a good time to crack a joke, but my soul is too battered to come up with one. The sarcasm will have to wait till after we land, which sounds like right about now. I can't think of where he could be taking me, but the flight had to be just over an hour.

In the darkness, it felt like a decade.


	4. KissMeClaire

**A/N Okay I definitely owe you guys an apology for not updating sooner. Well, maybe it's my muse that owes you, but I will apologize on her behalf. I also want to apologize because I just re-read the last chapter and it was horrible with the tenses. I may give up and switch permanently to past tense but I will give it one more shot on Lindsey's behalf. **

**Talking about Lindsey's behalf, I am going to do a split chapter about what is going on back home, and what is going on in her head. Re-reading my last chapter I almost want to go back and add more details just for the shock value, but instead I will keep the rating the same and let you guys fill in the pure horror that she is trying to conceal (even from herself!)**

**And with this chapter now thoroughly spoiled, I shall commence. **

_Lindsey's POV_

The engine is shutting off and I my ears start to pop painfully. I squint, the light shinning in my eyes as finally, the bathroom door slides open. This time I don't think rationally when taking on my opponent. Gun or no gun, manpower or no manpower I am getting OUT OF HERE. I leap with the same primal urge that the Kiss Me Not attacked me with. I think, somewhere in the back of my mind I know that this will only result in more pain, but I do it anyways. He goes to grab me and I avoid his balled fists. Nimble, I duck underneath him only to be met by a blow from the second suited man. My eyes go black and a rush of oxygen leaves my lungs. I can see Ashe perched on the same chair that he started in. Watching. Silent. This is starting to become a habit of his.

My vision clears and the ringing on my ears starts to fade. Surprisingly no one makes a move to grab me and I am caught in a starring match between my captor and myself. his eyes bearing into my skull makes my bruises pulse and my knees weaken, but I refuse to show him that. Instead I pull for one last leap of bravery, after all what else can a girl do in a situation like this?

"Why"

"don't"

"we"

"chat"

The words are drawn out and slightly slurred. I'm not sure if this is from the blow to the head I just received or the pure horror that comes to mind as I say them. He gives me a grin that spreads ear to ear and whether I want to chat or not he does. I'd like to think that this will postpone the inevitable and maybe, just maybe they may be able to find me.

"lets get comfortable first." His words disgust me and I have no clue what he means, but the airplane door is being lowered behind me and without restraints I am shepherded from the plane. This would be the ideal time to run, but I am already smarting from my previous blows and am now well aware that it would be pointless. Instead I follow Ashe, flanked by his men, into a limo.

Think, while I'm captive I get to travel in style. Yay.

_Claire's POV_

"Lindsey is out there Tom; we are going to find her." I am trying to reassure him but it's pretty obvious that we have little hope of finding her without the FBI's help. We are both itching to get out of Tom's stuffy office and try to find whatever evidence possible but a higher command has made us stay put. Everyone is panicked because of this and the words "everything will be fine" and "she will be alright" have been repeated continuously throughout the day to everyone whose lives have been touched by Lindsey Boxer. And for the record, that's a whole lotta lives.

Tom gets up and paces and to be honest even I'm having trouble keeping it together. Poor Cindy is just a blubbering mess and Jill has thrown herself into her work and hasn't said a word to any of us. I'm not sure if she is blaming herself, since she was the last one to see her, or whether she is trying to hold it together like the rest of us by keeping herself distracted. The pressure is on me to keep it together and it's a job I take willingly. I can cry later, but right now we all need to keep a good head on our shoulders to find Lindsey.

"Tom, TOM!" He is lost in a world of his own and I snap him back out of it. I'm thinking that while stuck here, the least we can do is brainstorm. I tell Tom this and he agrees, so we call our respective partners (meaning Cindy, Jill and Jacobi) and call an official "find Lindsey" meeting.

"What do we know?" Jill, who has barely said a word since Lindsey didn't show up for work this morning, drops a folder unceremoniously on the table. It lands with a thunk that scatters the loose papers sitting on Tom's desk.

"We know who, we know when, we know what, so why the fuck don't we know where??" Jill has obviously been suppressing anger and I can practically feel the venom flowing through her words. I place my hand gently on her shoulder and keep it there in a reassuring matter.

"Ashe is educated; he has access to places most people don't. Private planes, cars and any type of transportation offered by the FBI have been shut down, which leaves him public transit." Cindy pipes up in her usual chirpy fashion, but we can all hear the waiver in her voice

"In less she's already left the area. Or maybe he is right under our noses." The words hang over us like dead air. How are we going to narrow it down? God I wish I knew…

_Lindsey's POV. _

I soon discover that his version of comfort is in fact an old Victorian living room equipped with a fire place and wooden coffee table. I am tied again, which he tells me is just so that we can talk without distractions. The place looks like its right out of a movie and because I was forced to keep my head down in the limo I actually have no clue where I am. My only comfort it seems is that he really does want to talk. Might as well get chatty then….

"why me?"

"Why not you Lindsey, you're gorgeous. Skin silky smooth, hair that smells like vanilla… you know I'm really glad I got to know you better. But I do say you put up a fuss" My stomach drops and I fight the urge to throw up. The event was thrown into the back of my head but he seems to be determined not to let me forget. If I had all my wits I probably would have recognized that this was just stupid mind games, but I'm not exactly crystal clear right now.

"Are you going to kill me?" the question seems simple enough, I have a right to know these things.

"yes, maybe, but first I need you to answer me a few questions…"

"like what?" I spit back, fully prepared to fight back, at least verbally. He stands up and walks to the fire. He probes it with the poker, sending light flickering upwards. The fire dances and I'm wondering if he is lost in a day dream. He asks his question quietly, calmly, still turned towards the fire.

"Did you like being with me?" the question is sick, so perverted that I have trouble wrapping my mind around it. But his voice sounds so innocent, so genuinely curious. It takes all I have to bite my tongue and not scream at him. Instead I use the same calm voice he has, hoping to keep him in his trance-like state by the fire a little longer.

"No" the word is simple but firm. I don't want to anger him but I sure as hell can't say yes. And the way he asked sounded so pure and honest that I'm wondering if he just wants someone to enjoy being with him. Maybe he's just one of those lost kids looking for love.

I have to tell you, I'm usually spot on when it comes to phsyc evaluations like this, but when he turns towards me, his eyes blazing with the same flame as the fire, I know that his innocence, his genuineness is just a façade. He spins, hot poker still in hand, hot poker touching my skin.

I scream louder then I ever have. My voice is raw but still I keep screaming. The sizzle of burning flesh fills my ears and keeps ringing long after he pulls the poker away. The whole room, within seconds, smells like burnt flesh and even though the poker is gone I am still screaming. The screaming is reduced to sobs, which is reduced to a single tear flowing softly off my face. He wipes it away affectionately and I turn to move out of his grasp. He slaps me then replaces the burning medal to a new piece of flesh. I am learning this game fast.

This time he lifts my shirt, pressing the poker to the soft flesh on my abdomen. My screams turn silent and all I can do is grip the chair for dear life. I'm pretty sure this is how I passed out, but everything gets a little blurry when he repeats his question- and I stupidly answer no.

It is when I awake that he asks me a third time if I enjoyed being with him. This time I answer yes, and I know that I am defeated.


	5. KissMeClue

**A/N Okay so I've heard a lot of "poor Lindsey" and "I hope she is okay!" With these thoughts I have decided to give her a random act of kindness, haha I'm a nice person I swear! I feel the need to defend myself- the sadistic thoughts in my mind (and before you ask yes there are more to come) come from too many crime shows and a muse that sometimes gets a little rowdy. **

**If you're wondering how many chapters, I'm thinking two more after this. Maybe more, I just make it up as I go along. **

Squishy, Soft, Warm…a bed? I open my eyes, blinking away the light. Where am I again? Oh yeah….wait! I sit up quickly only to feel a searing pain run up my body. With the pain comes all the memories and I go through them silently, filing them away for later use. I won't cry about them, I've seen worse things done to people. I'm just going to keep them in my repertoire of hurtful things and never think about it again. That sounds like a good plan to me.

I look around the room, I am in a bed, not restrained and surprisingly bandaged. The room matches the living room I was in the day before. High bedposts with a dresser and little sitting place. The chairs surround another fire place and I'm starting to get the idea that I'm somewhere that's usually cold. Outside the door is a plate of food, and a quick glance to my left tells me that I don't have to go through the humiliation of peeing in public again. Limos, private jets, fancy houses, I don't know what kind of guy Ashe is but I'm starting to think that he's getting more then just a government salary.

I'm going to try to sit up again, but this time I'll do it slowly. I ease up and swing my legs off the bed. Everything hurts and aside from the bruises and burns I'm a little…stiff. But now that I'm in a sitting position I can inspect the bandages that are covering my arms and stomach. They don't look professional, but the job isn't too shabby. My stomach is rumbling and I am reminded that it's been over 48 hours since I last ate. I get up and grab the plate of food, inspecting it closely. Does he have the guts to poison me? Maybe I should play one of those angry kidnap victims that would rather starve to death then do what he says….

It's funny how much the movies affect our lives. I don't always have time to eat, but when presented the opportunity I try to down more then a sugary cup of coffee. With Claire's warning of anemia on my mind, I'm not about to pass up a meal. It's a simple but effective breakfast, and without second thoughts of poison I eat it.

_Claire's POV_

I am a mother hen. I will admit it, and I love my title. Sometimes it's nice to cut loose and relax but when you are chasing after two boys, a husband AND Cindy, down time is sparse. For the record, that is what I am doing- chasing Cindy I mean. She's decided, against Jill's legal advice, to do a little inspecting of her own despite the FBI's warning. Usually chasing after the bubbly read head is Lindsey's job, but I'm filling in her shoes I guess. And what big shoes to fill. So now I'm in some seedy drug den trying not to touch anything for fear of contracting a disease (okay, I'm an ME but I can still be grossed out.) Cindy is batting her eyelashes at her "source" and leaning in to him in that flirty way that desperate girls use to pick up desperate guys.

"Come on Dan, word on the street is that someone's been exporting, big time"

"Cindy babe, I don't know shit" He leans towards her and I take a step closer. Cindy is only armed with a taser because neither of us are qualified to carry weapons. Nor do I want too, I've seen too many people shot dead to want to carry one, even in a squirrelly place like this.

"Operation is too big to hide Daniel, narcs are already into it and with a little help I can hold them off till you guys get your shit together. Or I can keep my mouth shut and let them raid in, take all your dope and send you to prison for life. Your Choice" It was pretty obvious what he was going to choose.

"listen, there is some big shot guy, really weird one, made his fortune selling the drugs that came through YOUR system. Now he throws money around to get whatever the hell he wants. No one likes him but he's pretty generous if you know what I mean. So couple weeks ago he comes round and says he needs some help on a little trip he's taking. I didn't offer, he didn't ask me. Don't know shit after that." Cindy gives him a huge grin, pats him on the shoulder and presses a hundred dollar bill into his hand. Way over the tip limit, but this was a lead, this was Lindsey, and it was my money anyways.

She leans over to whisper something in his ear, I'm assuming about the narc raid. He frowns, goes to make a move then stops himself. I know there was no raid, and that's one way for Cindy to get herself killed. Still he got his money and we got our info. Both parties split ways with a little resentment.

My phone rings and I have to pull it back from my head. It's Tom. Tom is yelling at the top of his lungs threatening to put us both in jail. But jail is Cindy's gig, I'm more of the talk my way out of it kind of girl. Cindy and I walk to the car as I explain to tom what we found.

A lead, thank god we found a lead.

_Lindsey's POV_

I haven't heard from Ashe, but after my meal I figure it's time to get myself out of here. There are no windows and from a quick inspection of the room my options are to go up the chimney or through the door. The door is a beautiful solid oak door and it seems a shame to ruin such gorgeous wood. I go to kick out the door but stop at the last minute. This is too easy, a trap maybe? How can he leave me unattended when he went to this much effort to capture me? Instead of being rash, I inspect the room. Two bugs, on the lamp beside my bed and another closer to the door. I also spy at least three cameras, including the one in the bathroom.

I sit back down in the bed to weigh my options. I can bust through, risk being seen and shot as I walk through the door. Or I can stay here; hope the KMN doesn't kill me and that my friends find me soon. Maybe there was something in that food, because I can't stay here and wait for that bastard to return. I get rid of the bugs but the cameras are too high to reach and I have nothing tall enough to stand on. Armed with a chair (this sounds terribly odd, and traumatic, but please consider the circumstances) I kick the door in one solid movement.

I think I've sprained my ankle if anything, and the door doesn't budge. Angrily I try twice more, both with the same result and this time a definite crack. Okay, scratch the sprain, I bloody broke it.

Defeated, upset and now limping I sit back onto the bed. Now what should I do? I should stop asking these rhetorical questions, because every time I do something bad happens. And this bad, is the opening of the bedroom door. Please let it be one of his minions, because I can't take Ashe anymore.


	6. KissMeLady

**A/N I am nice, I do know how to update! I know that sounds very strange to you all, but I was not planning on leaving it there. My problem is that I have the ending perfected but can't think of how to get there. This would be some much easier if we could just skip to the good parts. **

**For the record, you may be seeing some femslash one shots in the near future (Can someone say PWP?) because if no one else will write some, I will. **

**And now we shall commence!**

**p.s. That's strange, while starting to write this piece it dawned on me that I should do just that- skip to the good parts. Meaning this may very well be our last chapter together, and so I would like to say thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed your stay in my imaginary world.**

_Lindsey's POV_

Just my luck, its Ashe AND his minions. They walk in forcefully and immediately I draw back. Two of them walk up to me directly on the bed and I do what my first instinct tells me to do- run. Of course, this idea could work if my ankle wasn't broken.

The third guy trips me on my way out, before pinning me painfully to the floor. With a twist of my arm he gets me on my feet, but not without a broken nose and some pretty painful nuts. Good to know I've still got it. With two men holding me and one standing by Ashe I have no where to look but at the FBI agent. I try to rest on one foot in the process, but I can't seem to stand up and be comfortable with my ankle.

"Did you hurt yourself Lindsey? not trying to kick down the door or anything are we?" He grins and motions to the cameras.I spit at him and he takes a step back to avoid it.

"My my, that was very unladylike. I wish you wouldn't act so boyish sometimes. Even the clothes you wear are masculine, do I recall boy shorts? I would like you to be more like a lady in the future." I don't really get what he is rambling about, but I'm fighting against my captors, desperate to get a fist in his face; to no avail.

"Perhaps I should help you learn to be a lady, since you insist on going against what I ask. Now a real lady would make her man breakfast, but it seems that one of my friends has already done that for you. And after breakfast the lady would go about and clean the house. Why don't you come clean my office?"

"Go to hell Ashe." Three words, What The Fuck?

"Boys, Lindsey, please follow me." They drag me towards his office. I half fight and half cry in pain all the way and by the time we reach the door all of us are a little worn out. Ashe simply smiles at me and flicks on the lights.

I know I say this a lot, but OH SHIT.

_Claire's POV_

I feel like I'm standing still and the world us rushing around me. We followed the drug lead and found out that Ashe booked a plane through some old buddies. He had been selling drugs from our storage unit in cohorts with another agent who has since been arrested. Once we got our initial clues the whole thing seems so much easier then it should be. Already I'm sitting in plane just minutes from touch down. FBI Agents Bregmen and Rodriguez are sitting across from me on the radio to the local police; Tom is sitting in the jump seat telling Heather he will be late tonight and I'm starring uncomfortably out the window. I had to beg to be here, and the only reason they let me on is because the little town we are going too doesn't have an official ME. Cindy and Jill tried equally hard but Tom put his foot down with them. He said they would only be in the way, but right now I would give anything to have the rest of the club members here.

To be honest, I'm afraid to face Lindsey- or whatever may be left of Lindsey, alone.

She's been gone for a little over 48 hours and my heart aches just being away from her for this long. Lindsey and I have been friends since we were both rookies, I can't stand the thought of never seeing her again.

Lost in my horrid thoughts of what we may find upon decent, I don't even notice that our plane is just about to land. It's a smooth landing and in more appropriate times I would applaud the pilots. I look out the window to see police cars already lined up. Everything is a little blurry and everyone is moving fast. I'm stuck into the back of a police car with two officers whose names, even though I was should told, escape me.

"ma'am? It's a bit of a drive but when we get there remember to stay here with your head down."

"Okay" I agree, but I don't even have to think about it. I'm going in there whether Tom likes it or not. Hell I'll even hold a gun if I have too.

**Okay I changed my mind. Have fun with that suspense :P **


	7. KissMeDeath

**A/N YAY FINAL CHAPTER DUMDUMDUM…. Lindsey fights back, of course who wouldn't fight back when… oups don't want to ruin it. I'm amazed, this is the first multi-chapter fan fic that I've fully finished. I mean usually I just read smut, but this is my way of giving back. Lol nope, I don't do the whole "write for myself" thing, I write for you guys!!!! Because I love you all so much for sticking till the bitter, if not painful end. And without further ado, I give you The END**

The office does have a desk, but that's about it as far as offices go. Instead it resembles more of a doctor's office, complete with a table to lie on and that stupid crinkly paper that goes on top. Now is not a time to be thinking about stupid crinkly paper and uncomfortable doctors tables, now is the time to think about the fact that I'm standing, one footed do to my ankle, surrounded by needles, chemicals and other various things that one would not want to find when kidnapped. And the funny, or not so funny thing, is that even with all these implements I'm being held up by two burly men while the other one advances with nothing but fists. Ashe moves behind the desk and sits himself in one of those big leather chairs that is always turned with the back to the person at the beginning of the scene. I watch as he slowly pours himself a glass of cool amber liquid, on the rocks, and removes his jacket. "Now Lindsey, we are going to negotiate here, because when I took you I had full intention of killing you, but I'm not so sure if your friends who are trying to break in right now are going to appreciate that"Wait, the FBI are here, Tom, Jacobi, the rest of the club!? I'm saved? Thank god they found me. By now the pain in my body is too intense for me to think rationally, and all I want to do is close my eyes. I can't stay standing for much longer and now that they've found me I want to just relax. Still Ashe thinks he has a chance? As my thoughts start to wander I feel a stinging sensation in my cheek. The third guy slaps me. Ass. "Lindsey Lindsey Lindsey... I'm offering you a negotiation here, and you aren't going to talk? What cat got your tongue? Because I'll take it if I have too"

The threat makes me shudder, but I'm trying not to show it. Instead I try to block out the pain and form a complete sentence. Obviously I'm not fast enough, because this time a fist lands on my abdomen, a little too close to the fresh burns for comfort. The next throw splits my lip and by the third one I think I'm done for. I can't struggle against the men holding me anymore, and I'm starting to see double. Please God, Tom, Somebody, if you can hear me, help me.

_Claire's POV_

What the hell is taking so long? We pull up to a Victorian house and I can see Tom and Jacobi get out of the squad car behind me. I move towards the door despite glares from my FBI babysitters. I think they recognize the determination in my expression, because none of them say a word. I don't think I'll be that lucky with Tom, but it's worth a try. Armed with nothing but my ME kit I slam the door behind me, only to turn around and stare into the seriousness of Jacobi's eyes.

"No"

"No" I repeat, equally as determined. Neither of us needs to say anything else, we both know very well what's going on. Jacobi gives me a serious look, questioning my choices but not saying anything else. The one thing we share is the need for Lindsey's safety. Without her who would we have to protect and putter after? As mother hen it is my job to keep Lindsey on a semi-normal eating, sleeping and social pattern, but I really do it for myself. Healthy Lindsey equals happy me.

"We go in, we deal, and you stay OUT OF THE BUILDING till I send an officer. He will escort you to our location. You are to not speak to the suspect, and in the event of a hostage situation you are not to negotiate. Are we clear Claire??" I want to complain to him, I really do. But Jacobi is the one with the Kevlar vest and gun. Mind you, I would be just as happy stabbing him to death with my scalpel. Still, I need to keep my sights on Lindsey, not some low life.

I nod to Jacobi and he leaves to join the others who are surrounding the building. I hear someone test the megaphone before making demands.

"Come out with your hands up…"

_Lindsey's POV_

Sheer panic is ripping through my gut. Although I'm bleeding from a split lip and broken nose, that's not what I'm worried about. In one solid swing my limp body is hoisted on to the table. My final attempts to struggle are feeble, but they are attempts none the less. Through the thick haze that's surrounding my head I make out Ashe looming over the table. He is grinning, wide mouthed, showing all of his pearly whites to me. My vision is blurry but by now I have a good idea of what is in his hand. I make one last solid scream, fighting ferociously against my captors. I'm past the stage of feeling weak for crying and begging. Now it is a necessity, now it is automatic. I never, ever, thought that was possible, but desperate Women do desperate things.

_Claire's POV_

Everyone hears the scream, it's impossible to miss. It feels like a missile exploding, only to leave a shell of calm collectiveness. That is in till someone breaks the spell by shouting to get into positions. The snipers are posed and swat team ready for action. In one swift motion the door is kicked open. Here goes nothing

_Lindsey's POV_

All three men are holding me down as I kick and struggle. One has his hand pressing on to my throat till I almost go limp. I'm supposed to be dead when this happens; I'm not supposed to be able to feel this, to know this.

With the precision of someone well practiced, I feel the needle pierce my lip. And suddenly I'm drawn to the conclusion that all the other victims were practice. It takes a seamstress to sew a dead man's mouth, a surgeon to sew a live one's.

_Claire's POV_

Every shout, every "clear" is like another bullet in my heart. There are no gunshots, only vacant words in vacant places. Have they left already? Is she lying dead in a room and he has moved on? Perhaps this is all a ploy, maybe it's the wrong house.

Doubts swirl in my mind as every second ticks by.

Clear,

Clear,

Clear

Stitch

Stitch

Stitch

I've got no more tears, no more thoughts. Somewhere in the back of my head I can hear someone shouting clear, but it causes no stir of hope, only stir of dread. If they find me, I survive this. If I survive this I know it will end in many nights of lost sleep, many nights in the arms of Claire, Cindy and Jill. Many nights haunted.

I can feel my body start to give up. Lindsey Boxer is not a quitter, but I don't feel like Lindsey Boxer anymore. I feel like another victim of the Kiss Me Not Killer, found posed and dead with her lips sewn shut.

Lips eternally closed I blink back the last drops of life.

_Claire's POV_

They've found her. I don't hear the gunshots, I don't hear the shouting, I only hear the empty air that should be filled with a "Clear." The dread and suspense tearing me apart I don't wait for someone to be sent back. I simply follow the trail of weary men to what looks like a doctor's office.

Blood of all sorts spatters the walls and I can see Ashe and two of his men lying where they fell. No one wants to touch them in fear of disturbing evidence. My heart catches as my eyes search frantically for Lindsey. The third man is being hustled out of the room, but not by Tom or Jacobi.

Instead the boys (as they look so delicate, like boys who lost their puppy) were leaning over the table, blocking my view. Jacobi caught the corner of my eye and I knew. But yet I didn't know. I had to see her.

She is warm to the touch, so warm that if I didn't know any better I would swear she is merely sleeping. CPR, she is still warm enough, we can save her, and she can live.

Hard to give CPR to someone with their lips sewn shut

I wish I could say that I'm thinking rationally enough to save her, but it's an EMT, scissors at hand, that stirs the hope back into my heart. Someone shoves me out of the way and I can see the EMT perform the CPR steps that I know so well, that I can do in my sleep. I've never felt so helpless, all I can do is stand there and watch my friend, my best friend, fight for her life.

Snip

Snip

Snip

Breath

Breath

Breath

Finally, Finally I see the bloodied chest of Lindsey rise slowly.

**A/N OMG I wanted to kill her soooooo badly. I was just going to end it when Jacobi looked at Claire, but I know that would have pissed a lot of people off. I for one, hate it when Lindsey gets killed. **

**So if anyone wants to stick around I am going to do an epilogue of the gang together at the hospital. **


End file.
